Not so Sad
by blockedwriter
Summary: A young Harry doesn't believe he is loved. Who will tell him otherwise? depressing
1. harry

Disclaimer: I am just another lowly mortal taking advantage of this opportunity for my own amusement and do not in fact own anything

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"And you can't come in or have any dinner until the entire sidewalk is cleared of snow! Understood"

"Yes Uncle Vernon," the young boy mumbled, not daring to look up for fear of being considered cheeky. A shovel was tossed into the snow next to him by his purple-faced uncle from the door way. The young boy glanced into the house only to look down again, angry thoughts running through his head at the sight of his piggish cousin with a smug triumphant look on his face.

"Think you can ruin our Christmas Eve with your abnormal ness then think again. I won't tolerate it. Not in my house!" He retreated into the house with a quick slam of the door leaving his nine-year-old nephew to face the cold alone without even a jacket. His health was conveniently forgotten in favor of a warm home. Can't have the door being opened any longer than necessary. His aunt would disapprove.

It was already dark out and Harry Potter was not eager to freeze. He got work hoping to be done quickly. His thoughts were raging at the injustice of this situation. He should be used to it by now. So far this wasn't any different than any other day. He didn't even do anything this time. Dudley, the git, had completely made up the whole thing. Only ones such as his aunt and uncle would believe that load of rot about him saying he would blow up the house and destroy all of Dudley's precious presents. All Dudley had to do is bawl and whine his chubby little head off about Harry destroying Christmas and ruining everything and Mummy gives her Diddydums anything he wants. The black haired boy's thoughts were so muddled and furious that he didn't even notice he was being watched.

45 minutes later and a half way done sidewalk, a very tired Harry took a break. He was sweating and no longer cold even though he was only wearing worn out hand me downs that were probably ten sizes too big, Harry'd say. They made him look pathetically thin, although he tried too make that fact less noticeable by wearing some rope around his shirt so it wouldn't flap so much. He sat down on the porch steps trying to catch his breath. He wiped a sweaty bang of hair out of his face revealing his startling green eyes and a thin scar on his forehead. As he regained his energy, he became increasingly colder but found he could not tear his eyes away from the houses across the street. All of them with decorations and lights adorning their homes. The lights in their windows were still on, Christmas trees shining and families enjoying the holidays. Singing and laughing and smiling with their families. Harry looked on longingly, a sadness and emptiness slowly growing in the depths of his heart. Everyone was happy and loved except him who was instead sitting out in the front yard alone.

Tomorrow everyone would wake up and open presents and eat candy and have a wonderful Christmas breakfast. Soon they would go to parades and parties and eat Christmas dinner and know that they had happy lives. Not him. He would be given breakfast before everyone woke up and then kept in his cupboard until it was time to go over to Mrs. Figg's Harry could hear music coming from inside the Dursley household. He slowly got up and wrapping his arms around himself he walked over to the front room window and peeked in. His uncle was on the sofa talking to his wife as she allowed Dudley to peek at some of his presents. Christmas carols were playing in the background. The sadness grew as he wondered whether his parents loved him the way his aunt and uncle loved Dudley. Would they have had Christmas' like this where his parents would be sitting around him and giving him presents and caring? What if they would have thought of him as a freak too? What if they wouldn't have loved him either? Would they have abandoned him? He looked back into the living room in time to see his aunt lean down and hug and kiss Dudley.

He suddenly couldn't take it anymore. He swung around and let out a small scream of anger and pain. Why was everything like this? He never did anything. He dropped to the ground and started flinging snow in every direction. He even got a hold of the shovel and threw it across the yard. No matter how hard he had tried when he was younger, he could never make his family like him. Everything backfired. He didn't used to get it. He used to not understand why he was different from Dudley, why they looked at him like a germ or piece of trash when he'd try to do something nice, like when brought his aunt flowers after seeing Dudley do it. They went straight into the garbage.

Harry laid in the snow then, not able to help himself from crying. Just like a baby, he thought to himself angrily. He laid there for a while, weeping, to tired and cold to move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the lights had gone out in the Dursley residence. No doubt the door was locked. This fact only made him cry anew. Why couldn't someone just care for him? Why didn't anyone love him? Did his parents ever love him? He of course didn't remember.

He could tell someone had walked up to him and was standing next to him but he was too exhausted to care. He just wanted to lay there and not think. Maybe he would fall asleep soon.

He didn't get a chance to think anything else because a pair of arms had reached underneath him and slowly lifted him, like a child cradled in someone's arms. He scrunched his eyes together for fear of who this person was (a man, he suspected). Instead he snuggled closer clinging to the warmth of this man and wiped his tear streaked face on the man's clothes. The man had moved and Harry suspected sat on the porch. He took a moment to arrange Harry on his lap and wrap a blanket around him. Harry curled up even more, shivering like mad, and the man just sat there letting him get warm.

After Harry had calmed down some he asked the man, "Who are you"

Instead of answering the man said, "You'll know me soon enough." It was a hard tone of voice but with seemingly no menace or irritation. It was almost silky and seemed cold due to habit. His words perked Harry's curiosity.

"What do you mean?" Harry stiffened, "Are you going to tell on me"

"No! But I wouldn't mind giving him what he deserves." Harry flinched only to have the man pull him closer.

Then in a more concerned comforting voice the man asked, "Will you tell me why you were crying"

The thoughts that for a few moments were distracted came flowing back in a wave a grief. Silent tears stung his eyes. Without hesitation he answered quietly, "No one loves me, sir, and I'm just so tired. Of Everything"

The man had stiffened and Harry could feel him staring down at him. Slowly he opened his eyes and stared at the man's black ones. The man seemed a little surprised when Harry opened his eyes. The man had very sallow skin, even in the dark and his hair was black. The man got over his mild shock and asked staring intently, "Why do you think you're not loved"

"Because I..I'm a freak and I'm worthless. Not even my parents loved me"

Suddenly Harry was swept up as the man stood and he was set on the ground while the man knelt in front of him, anger blazing. "Who told you such lies!" he said with a wild ferocity.

Harry stuttered, "M..my aunt and uncle, but how do"

"Don't you ever let me hear anything like that said again!" he emphasized every word. "You are not a freak, you are not worthless, and you're parents loved you more than is imaginable!"

"You knew my parents"

He didn't answer but stood up. He walked over to the door and muttered something that Harry didn't catch. He then turned the knob and the door opened.

Harry gasped, "But they never…." he stopped. The man looked at him again with rage that was not meant for him. The man had known what he was going to say. He gestured Harry to follow him inside.  
Harry then noticed how tall the man was and how strange his clothes were. His thoughts were cut short when the man asked, "Where's your room"

Harry embarrassed pointed to the staircase. The man started to proceed stealthily up the stairs. Harry said quickly, "No sir," The man looked back puzzled Harry looked down in shame and muttered, "I sleep in the cupboard"

The man stared at Harry as if processing this information and then looked so infuriated that it seemed to Harry he would start to throw objects.

He walked back down the stairs and opened the cupboard door and took in the small cot and arrangement of broken toys and torn clothes and dust. His face had turned to an emotionless mask.

Harry went to get into his cupboard to sleep but was stopped.

The man had knelt down to eye level with his hands on Harry's shoulders looking at him intently. He said to Harry, "In a short time everything's going to change, and when it does you will find out just how many people love you. Until then don't believe a word your relatives tell you. You've been lied to all your life, but things you never expected are going to happen"

He stood up and made ready to go. Harry was already feeling sad about his leaving. "Will you come back to see me? I don't understand everything"

The man let out a sigh, "Harry the next time you see me I will be different. You will understand everything soon enough." He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vile filled with green liquid in it. "Drink this before you go to bed." He handed it to Harry. "Merry Christmas Harry" Then he walked out the front door and disappeared.

That night Harry had the most pleasant dream about being a toddler and his mother with red hair and green eyes like his own was singing to him and his father with hair and glasses like his was playing with him. He had no doubt that these were memories and for the first time in his life he felt loved.

It was also a nice surprise to wake up and find the sidewalk was completely shoveled for him.

A/N : Review


	2. snape

I had some inspiration. Snapes POV of the first chapter.

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"_He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"_

The night didn't start out with that thought, but as the hours went on that Christmas Eve and a dark sallow man brooded, it would probably end with it. This was his refuge from the festivities and _cheer_ of the castle; a small dusty house and a drink, its amber contents reflecting the firelight. His fingers swirled the glass and his eyes were shut tightly. Memories turned over in his mind and his other hand clutched the rest of the armchair as if he would strangle them.

'How would everything have been different?' he thought. 'Where would I be now if that word had never passed my lips?'

"_Mudblood." _His memory screamed at him. She had walked away.

He stood up and threw his glass at the wall angrily. He tried to imagine how he would be spending this night if everything was different. Would she be here by his side? Would they be enjoying Christmas together? Maybe she would have never married James Potter. Would she have been his wife instead? Would they have had kids?

"_Her boy survives"_ this thought made his teeth clench. 'It could have been my son instead of James Potter's.'

With a flick of his wand he put out the fire and then swept out of the room. He needed sleep to mute his thoughts. Without even changing he got under his thick dark comforter and tried to drift off.

Minutes passed and all he could do was stare out into the dark room. 'It's been eight years,' he thought, 'and eight times I have suffered through this night.'

Letting out a frustrated groan, he got back out of bed and walked over to his cabinet. It was filled with lots of vials and tiny jars, each filled with different substances of all different colors. He fingered some vials in one section. They were various kinds of sleeping potions, each with its own advantages and disadvantages. He knew though that most wouldn't react well with alcohol and the rest weren't meant for just sleep. There was only one that would do anything, and disgusted though he was to have to use that one, he took it off the shelf anyways. He never used this one because although it put you to sleep it forced you to dream good throughout the night. He knew the next morning he would feel even more depressed after dreaming about things he couldn't have but his need for sleep was greater.

He looked at the vial ready to pop off the top and stopped. The liquid was emerald green.

"_He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color…"_ He had just remembered.

He was still staring, thinking, and an overwhelming urge came over him, suddenly, to know if this was true.

"_Her son lives…"_

Now that he thought of this, he couldn't get it out of his head. His eyes belong to her.

He didn't think about it only grabbed his cloak and dropped the vial into one of the pockets. He took out his wand and walked out his front door at Spinners End and disapparated.

--

He had apparated onto a tidy little street right under a sign that said Privet Dr. It was disgusting to think of anyone actually living here. He could hear a scrapping sound coming from nearby and started off in that direction down the street.

After coming up the walk, Snape stood very still and blended into the shadow of a tree. There he watched as a small boy shoveled snow off the sidewalk, the metal clanking against the stone.

Before he saw anything though, he saw the hair. It was wild and untamed, the exact likeness of James Potter. That in itself could have put him in a rage on any other day of the year. On Christmas Eve, it could only bring him sorrow and resentment.

He couldn't see the eyes from here which is what he anxiously tried to see next. The anticipation was building quickly. Just one look. He just wanted her eyes to look at him. He deserved it for eight years of depression and isolation.

"…_the shape and color…"_

Just one look. Maybe he should make a sound to get the boys attention. He thought better of it though. The boy was focused on his work. Snape could see his face from here. It was determined and his lip was thinned and eyes narrowed staring hard at the shovel as he worked as if he could will the overly large shovel to work faster. Strangely enough he wondered if his potential son would look like that when he was focused. He could see already the few features of Lily's on the boys face and Snape spent a moment replacing James' features with his own. For a moment he imagined it was his own son working (really though, he would have his son use a shovel that fits) on Christmas Eve…

The thought trailed off. For a moment he was confused. Then he was shocked. Why is Harry Potter outside shoveling snow on Christmas Eve? He didn't even have a coat on. It took a few seconds but then Snape saw everything. The boy was so small with a thin unhealthy frame. He had signs of sleep exhaustion, malnutrition, and he was outside on Christmas Eve shoveling snow in the cold without a coat. Not only that but the clothes themselves were nothing more than rags. A very different image was being painted in Snape's mind and he wasn't sure whether to believe it.

He was still in shock and didn't realize that the boy had stopped shoveling and was now sitting on the porch.

Snape looked up and was put into shock again by the clear image of Lily's eyes. The child was staring of in the distance and his Green eyes were brightly illuminated by the streetlamp. They glowed emerald and truly were his mother's eyes. The look in them though was something Snape had never seen in Lily. It was a look of pain and sorrow that Severus imagined was only seen on Lily in the last moments of her life. On this child it didn't seem to be its first appearance.

Harry at that point got up and turned away moving slowly to the house's front window. Snape contemplated leaving at this point. He wasn't the right one to get involved. He wasn't even sure he cared enough. The boy meant nothing to him.

"_You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain."_

Snape didn't move. That was the worst night of his entire life. He knew he couldn't leave now. Dumbledore's voice can't stay him for long. But Lily's eyes staring out of her son in misery could. It was as if she was coming from beyond the grave to show him her sorrow for her son. She spoke to him saying that unless he wished that image haunt him he should do his best to make it disappear.

He was torn from his thoughts by a cry of anguish. It seemed inhuman; the cry of the saddest most pathetic existing thing was right in front of him. He watched as the boy threw a horrible angry fit. Snow was flung everywhere and Snape barely got out of the way as a shovel came hurtling across the lawn powered by some accidental magic. For a few minutes he watched as the child completely wore himself out in his depression and rage.

Then Harry dropped into the snow and laid there with his back arching as he sobbed. Snape saw then that the lights had gone out in the house and he felt a surprising twinge of anger. This only made the boy cry anew. The snow melted a little where his tears fell. Snape walked silently up to him. The boy calmed his tears at the approach but didn't move.

Snape wasn't sure what he was doing then, he tried to reason that it was because the boys lips were turning blue but all the same he leaned over and carefully lifted the boy from the snow. He held him tightly in his arms suddenly feeling a protective instinct come out of him. He had only ever felt that way around Lily. The boy didn't seem to care who it was, he only clung tighter.

Snape sat down and maneuvered Harry onto his lap taking off his cloak in the process and covering the boy. The boy's skin was icy.

Snape wasn't really sure what to do next. He had never comforted a child before, quite the contrary. He stayed silent. Is this how it would have been with his own child? He didn't know.

Harry had stopped crying and asked with his face still nuzzled up to Snape. "Who are you?".

Snape thought it would be better if the boy didn't know anything yet. "You'll know me soon enough."

"What do you mean? Are you going to tell on me?' Harry had gone still and again Snape felt a twinge of anger. Well it was more than a twinge.

"No!" he said sharply then muttered, "But I wouldn't mind giving him what he deserves."

As Harry flinched at his tone he reacted without thinking and pulled him closer. It made him feel strange. He wasn't sure where he should go from here so he awkwardly asked, "Will you tell me why you were crying?"

Some tears gushed out of the boy's closed eyes and he spoke so quietly that Snape barely heard the response, "No one loves me, sir, and I'm just so tired. Of everything."

Snape stiffened understanding now how far this went. He stared down at the boy's face, observing it. Then the boy opened his eyes and Snape was once again confronted with Lily's eyes. He was in shock again at how sad they were. Lily was looking at him.

"Why do you think you're not loved?" The boy answered in resignation, "Because I..I'm a freak and I'm worthless. Not even my parents loved me."

This was unacceptable. Snape was angry. In an instant he had Harry on his feet and stared into his eyes, "Who told you such lies?!"

"M..my aunt and uncle, but how do…" he stuttered.

"Don't you ever let me hear anything like that said again!" Snape said dangerously. "You are not a freak, you are not worthless, and you're parents loved you more than is imaginable!" It was strange to Snape that as he said that he was thinking of Him and Lily as Harry's parents and James out of the picture.

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked in awe.

That could only lead to bad conversations. Snape decided it was time for Harry to sleep. He went to the door and muttered 'Alohamora' after trying the handle then opened the door.

Harry gasped from behind, "But they never…" he stopped when he saw the anger on Snape's face. At the moment Snape was restraining himself from doing something very rash to the Dursleys.

They both went inside and Snape asked, "Where's your room?"

Harry's face turned red and he pointed at the staircase which Snape then headed up but was stopped by Harry saying quietly, "No, sir."

Snape looked back and saw Harry eyeing a small door. He said shamefully, "I sleep in the cupboard."

In a cupboard, he thought, then, I'll murder them one day. He knew he would do it to. He should probably clear it with Albus first.

Snape got to the cupboard and opened it. It was tiny and crowded and everything inside was broken or ruined. The boy lived in a cage. Snape shut himself down at that point knowing otherwise he would pick the boy up and carry him away never to be seen again. That wouldn't go over well in the wizarding world. He would first thing tomorrow talk to Albus.

He knelt down to eye level with the boy. It was as if he was trying to convey everything in one look. The child was at full attention as if he felt the gravity being conveyed. "In a short time everything's going to change, and when it does you will find out just how many people love you. Until then don't believe a word you're _relatives_ tell you. You've been lied to all your life, but things you never expected are going to happen.

Snape then stood up and put his cloak on. Harry asked, "Will you come back to see me? I don't understand everything."

Snape sighed knowing this would eventually come up. "Harry the next time you see me I will be different. You will understand everything soon enough." Then Snape reached into his cloak and pulled out the sweet dream potion. He closed it into Harry's small hand and said, "Drink this before you go to bed."

With one last look he said gently, "Merry Christmas Harry." In that last instant he knew he was seeing Lily smiling out of Harry's eyes, thanking him for taking care of her son. Then he closed the door and walked down the walk, vanishing the snow as he went. He disapparated at the end of the street to his house and made his way into bed knowing that this year Lily would smile in his dreams.


End file.
